Creative Writing Thing
by BritKit
Summary: I'm taking a creative writing class and we were asked to 'expand a memory'. This is the result.


The hallways were empty as I walked along. Everyone was either at dinner or one of the various forms of entertainment. Or asleep. It was, after all, around two AM, and anyone with any sense was probably in bed. Not that people on vacation are known for having sense. If I watched carefully, I could see the floor rock from side to side, making my path sway. I passed through a near deserted lounge, music playing over the speakers, various artworks on the walls. Eventually, the hallway ended.

Gilded elevators and stairs stood to my left, sliding glass doors on either side looked out onto the pool deck. I shifted the gauzy shawl that draped my shoulders. My feet were starting to hurt. Stupid heels, they're so hard to walk in. A large, potted tree stood in the opposite corner. I walked over to the stairs, dress swishing as I moved, and sat. I kicked off the heels, and pulled up layers of cloth, tulle, and slip to pull off my knee highs as well. No sense in getting them dirty. I balled up the knee highs, picked up my shoes, and stuck them behind the potted plant. I shrugged off the shawl too. It was more for decoration than warmth - and it wouldn't stay on anyways.

Now barefoot, I picked up the front of my skirt and crossed in front of the elevators, idly noting my reflection. A young girl in a floor-length, dark blue gown. Wavy, brown hair pulled back, shoulders bare, apart from the slim straps of the dress. Slightly sunburned cheeks. I didn't look long enough to catch my eye color, but I knew what it would be. An intricate mix of deep blue and bright green, trying both to match my dress and note the day I'd spent in the ocean. Water always made my eyes greener.

I finished crossing the elevators and moved to the sliding doors. They whisked open and I walked onto the deck. The floor was cold and slightly damp. Even from down here I could hear the wind, roaring above. I moved out from under the awning, past the bar, and several chairs. The pool had netting over it, and water sloshed in waves up the sides, spilling over across tile, before running into the barrier. I swiftly walked alongside the pool, glancing out the windows at the blackness of night and sea. Coming to a stairway, I hiked my skirt a bit higher and tapped up the steps. They were wood, with small strips of black roughness, like sandpaper.

I reached the top of the stairs. The wind was coming faster now, tugging at my dress, my curls. I reached up and undid the clip that held half of them back, and clipped it to the strap of my dress. Didn't want to lose it. There were chairs up here too, beach chairs, no towels on them, unlike during the day. It was colder than I thought. Probably the wind. I adjusted my grip on my skirt, and half ran down the deck to the next stairway. It was shorter this time, but the same type. I could no longer tell if the ground was cold because it was wet or if it was just...cold. I hoped it wasn't wet. My father would kill me if I got this dress wet, even if it was only the hem. It was probably dry clean only.

I could hear the waves as they splashed up the sides of the ship, and I could smell the salt. I knew that the next time I put this dress on it'd smell the ocean, not my citrus perfume. I didn't mind. Past a few more chairs, and a wood cabinet that probably held towels, and I was at the staircase. Up even faster this time, heart in my chest, favorite part of cruises, except the sunshine, is definitely _this_.

Up on the highest deck, fewer chairs now, stars above, more than there ever are at home, round a corner and _yes!_

My shriek is lost in the wind as it races around me. All I can hear is the roaring, I can barely move the force is so strong. Its like moving through water. The smell of the ocean is all around me as I lift my arms to shoulder hight. Its cheesy, but what the hell. There's no one here but me, I can have my titanic moment if I feel like it. I'm freezing, goosebumps all over, but I don't care. Later, I'll go back down the stairs, back through the doors, gather my shoes and go back to my stateroom to change. I'll have something hot to drink, to disperse the chill still on my skin. I'll hang up my formal dress, tuck the heels in the bottom of the closet I share with my brother, and toss the knee highs in the laundry bag. I'll go to bed, still hearing the ocean and smelling the salt in my hair. And much, much later, when we are again between ports for the night, I will return to the front of the ship. Where there is nothing but the ocean, the stars, and the wind.


End file.
